[IC] The Wyld Hunt

[wakeangel]

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Betrayer. Beloved. Loss and hatred flashed momentarily hot in Irridihwe's heart as it always did when she saw her brother. Golden as the sun even in the deepening dusk, he refused the night's embrace as surely as he'd refused hers. With cold elegance she inclined her impassive countenance in his direction.

“Serra.”

She purposely failed to hide an indulgent smile at her champion's insane-seeming rambling. The deeper meanings and implied insults amused her jaded ears. He walked a fine line and knew that she would not protect him should her brother lords or her king decide he'd gone too far, but seemed to enjoy his balancing act as much as she enjoyed witnessing it.

The High Lord ruined her fun a moment later, though and she fumed. How dare he insult her Court! Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated ways to make him suffer before her Champion's breach of protocol drew her attention back to her Hunting party. A slight uneasy shifting in her steed in response to her tension was the only indication that Illisar's forwardness had unsettled her as well. She had grown lax in her handling of him of late. Perhaps after this Hunt was over, she'd need to take a firmer grasp upon his leash. Such matters were best considered later, however. Right now she just wanted her Champion to keep the Trophy away from the smug Day Lord and his obnoxious four seasons.

Four other Hunters she had chosen, carefully handpicked for their task. They were not given the honor to strive for the Trophy. Her abstention meant that privilege went to Lord Illisar alone. Their task this night was to interfere with the other Hunters, rescuing their intended prey with promises of safety and leading the hapless humans straight into the final embrace of her Champion. For that purpose she had selected fey with fine tracking abilities and a less threatening demeanor.

As her King addressed their prey, Irridihwe scanned the gathered humans, searching for suitable Chosen possessing such important qualities as vitality, attractiveness, poise and most importantly breedability. Her eyes sharpened as she saw a male/female pair. Mated? Possibly. If not, they soon would be. They looked like strong stock to begin her new menagerie. The likeness of her own Erlking resting in the female's hands sealed her choice. Three more sets of humans she picked out, more than at any time since she'd begun bestowing Kisses upon her prey, before the great Horn sounded and chaos reigned.

As bedlam broke out around her, she dismounted with an unconcerned air, giving her Hind a casual pat. Normally she Chose no more than two or three to amuse her, stalking and tormenting them through the night before claiming each one just before the sun rose, when they felt hope that they would see the dawn and its safety. She'd Chosen those she considered the finest of the lot, would kill and would claim- forever. When the others gave up their prizes one year from now, she would not. What was left of Lord Illisar's Kills would join her coterie. With the King asleep until long after their pitiful lifespans had passed and no one else with the authority to gainsay her, who would stop her? No one ever had in the past.

Her Champion's shriek rode the clearing, and she smiled. One of her Chosen, the first male, slipped into the forest, thinking himself unseen and her gay laughter rang out in odd counterpoint to Illisar's dread voice. Though she was on a mission, nothing said she could not enjoy herself. She'd have preferred to start with his companion, the female who wore the Forest King's token, but that one was lost for the moment.

The guttering fires and frantic activity threw looming shadows throughout the clearing, making travel easy. The Night was her element. Here she reigned supreme. None, save the Forest King, could match her. With a soft swish of her skirts and a sighing of silk, Irridihwe stepped into the deep shadow cast by a large twisted oak and emerged from the dark side of a tall maple a few hundred feet east and a bit further into the forest, close enough to touch the human male she sought. Leaning against a tree trunk with his head turned away from her, he watched the carnage in the clearing. The Lady could hear the pounding of his heart, strong and frantic, and sighed as softly as her gown, anticipating the taste of the blood rushing through it.

Soon.

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[Irish Wolf]

The Erlking had noticed Irridihwe marking her prey for the night, as he gave the challenge and was mildly surprised by the number of them. It was unusual for her to pick so many to torment nor could she hope to get them all if she was going to play with them like she always had. A small smile spread under his mustache, maybe for the first time in a thousand years and on purpose for once, he could steal one of the man-creatures away from her. It would be a fine joke and there had been a female she had marked, who held a charm that was suppose to look like him, the perfect candidate.

The fey Lord’s eyes tried to follow the female, as panic swapped through the camp. He lost her in the confusion but so had the Lady of the Dark fey, as she went flicking through the shadows after another human. He at least had had gotten a general direction for his first hunt for the night. Parsing his lips, he let out a whistle, calling his hounds back from scattering the human pack.

“My Lords” said the Forest King, as he summoned his lance to his right hand, “A good hunting to you and your courts!”

With that, Hlas turned away from the gathering and trotted in the direction his master had last watched the young woman. Ghost hounds dashed beneath his eight ringing hooves, as the pack’s alpha, Icrale, glanced at his rider and raced at the horse prince’s side, tongue hanging from between his jaws. The hound was waiting from their master to set them on a trail.

“A female” said the Erlking, so that only his hound could hear, “She was running alone and have a carving of me, though it was made of rowan.”

The hound whined.

“Aye my lad” said the Fey, his face a light with the thrill of the hunt, “But it makes the night interesting and is how you will track her! Find me the wicked scent of rowan and follow it!”

The big hound nodded his heavy head and raced forwards, howling instructions to the dozen other hunting dogs. Each one answered the alpha, although their voices were filled with reluctance to race after a scent they normally avoided and for good reason. The vile tree was painful to touch and the fruit were poison. Still, it was their master’s wish and they obeyed, barking and howling as they caught the scent.

[vasa o souls]

Fein watched the carnage for a moment longer as he thought about everything he knew of fey, he still couldn’t believe they were real. He remembered that they did not like running water or Rowan wood. But remembered nothing of how they were to be killed or harmed.

Maybe this charm will come in handy after all. He thought

There was a stream nearby perhaps he could make it to the stream, if the stories were true maybe the water would protect him. He hoped that the stream wasn’t dried up this time of year. Without rain he figured it was a 50/50 shoot in the dark as to whether or not the stream would be running.

As Fein went to turn towards the water he heard the soft rustle of cloth, odd he thought he might never had picked up on the sound before and earlier this evening it might have been a pleasant sound. Now however his ears sharpened by the amount of adrenaline in his blood he picked up on the sound and it scared him to think of what might be behind him. Especially because he hadn’t seen nor heard anyone there a moment ago.

Fein Turned slowly and moved his hand to the knife on his hip at the same time, if something was going to kill him, he wasn’t going without a fight. Behind him though was a tall and beautiful woman dress in a ball gown the like of which he had not seen, it was elaborate and exquisite. The woman was a bit pale in the skin but had hair that was dark as night, she appeared to belong to the night, and somehow had gotten within arm’s reach of Fein without making a sound, he almost believed the noise made by this woman’s dress was intentional.

Fein backed away as quickly as possible but no sooner had he taken a couple of steps away from her than he ran into a tree. With a tree at his back, what he assumed was one of these fey at his front, Fein had no choice but to brandish his blade in her direction.

“I don’t know who you are but, I won’t let you kill me” he said brandishing his steel blade in front of him “tell me who you are and maybe I’ll let you live” The steel blade shaking slightly in his hands. He had no intention of killing anyone but would if he had to, to stay alive.

[Kohananinja]

If Aly knew she’d been marked as prey by two of the most powerful of their Fey hunters, she would likely be far less in control of her fear than she was at the moment. As it was, she was relying on adrenaline to power herself through this nightmare. She’d escaped the campsite in the great mob, but as they fled deeper into the forest, the mob began to thin until Aly was alone. The last person she’d seen had been a girl who sat sobbing against a tree, a look of equal parts terror and incomprehension on her face. Aly had wasted precious moments trying to pull the girl up, make her run, something, but she wouldn’t move. Eventually, Aly had to give up, or risk becoming another victim to the girl’s inability to deal with what they’d just seen. She resolved then, that she couldn’t let herself do that, break down and give into the fear, or she was going to die.

Fairies? Those sure didn’t look like the sparkly, winged, Barbie doll looking image that came to most people’s minds. But then, what had the large one, the one who’d spoken called himself. Fey, he’d said they were the fey. A spark of recognition lit in her brain. There was an entire unit about these people in the textbook she’d been reading for that stupid local mythlore class she was being forced to take a program requirement. She’d brought the text book, she remembered hopefully for a moment before it was dashed at the realization that it was still in the camp with her back pack. She’d have to go on everything by memory for the moment.

Alright, Fey, she could do this, just a really scary and stressful pop quiz. She held down the bought of hysteria induced laughter that tried to bubble it’s was to the surface at that thought. They were divided into four aspects, supposedly why humans developed the belief in four seasons, the king and the three courts. A people bound by structure and class, words are weapons. Words were weapons, what did that even mean?! Why couldn’t she remember anything important, like how to ward these monsters off?

Then, she heard the howling, it was coming from more than one dog, and then she remembered those ethereal hounds from the camp. Why were they so close, shouldn’t they be going after the larger and closer groups? God, and to think she’d been a dog person.

[Harlequin Smile]

The two boys slowed, almost stopping as Jack ran up between them, the shorter one extending a greeting. Half smiling at his honour, opening her own mouth to reply, Jack bit her tongue as the other cut them both off, almost ordering his companion to shut up and move. Eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced over at the taller man, quite obviously in charge, his tone domineering, used to being obeyed.

Still, what he was saying was right. Best to get the boys away, a place where they were less vulnerable, less likely that another of the hunters would stumble on them then. She listened to them babble as they ran, frantically listing half remembered folk charms, grasping at straws for anything they could use against their aggressors.

The gallant had just said something about iron when a hideous shriek rent the air, killing all conversation completely. A moment later, the sound of hoofbeats filled the silence, getting louder by the second. Face grim, she glanced at both men. Though not afraid of what approached, if Illidar closed it was unlikely Jack would be able to stop him from taking her prizes.

She took a deep gasp of breath, though not winded at all. “Name's Evelynn, and your friend is right. First we need to get out of here. Come on!” Plastering panic all over her face, Jack sprinted left, dodging between trees, heading towards a steep bank of earth. One a horse, even a fairy steed, would find it damn near impossible to climb.

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The camp was almost empty now, only the High Court party and a few hunters from the other courts remained. Every eye was on the king as his hounds surrounded him, the great figure leaning from saddle to speak to the largest, face filling with glee as the dogs caught scent of whatever unfortunate human had caught his eye this night. Tuging back on the reins to stop her horse following, Lena span to face her fellow courtiers, impatience writ large across eyes and mouth, elegantly gesturing backwards.

“Yonder, our king rides out.” Eyes narrowed as she focused on the aspect of spring in particular. “And us, Reynard? I have no patience for this.” The wide smile she received as answer caused her eye to twitch, short hair dancing as she tossed her head, snatching up her bow. “I ride. Alone if I must.”

Reynardine simply bowed in the saddle. One arm swept wide to encompass the forest that surrounded them, teeth glinting as he smiled a foxes smile. “And so, my dear, you shall ride.” He paused, childish curiosity overtaking his face.” And perhaps Angerona will ride also?” Brows low over twinkling eyes, he turned to face the aspect of winter, who had stayed silent thus far. Her expression blank, she matched his gaze, giving a single curt nod. Lena almost snarled, the animosity between summer and winter was well known to them all, and Reynardine grinned wider, clearly taking pleasure in her irritation as he spoke again, louder than was necessary. “Then it seems I alone will stay with our Lord”

All three aspects looked to their ruler, now staring impassively into the darkness at the point his sister had disappeared into. For fully thirty seconds all was still, then one immaculate hand stirred, twitched a fraction, and that was enough.

Letting loose a victorious hiss, Lena span her horse around, followed quickly by Angerona and the remaining courtiers of summer and winter. In moments they were free of the tents, following the path of the largest group of humans.

Reynard's smile faded with their passing, guiding his steed in a slow circle until it was alongside Serra's own. The high lord was still staring off into the treeline, and for a minute Reynard stared with him, straining his eyes to catch sight of what it was his lord was trying to see. The soft clatter of hoof on mud sounded behind him, both spring court attendants shifting uncomfortably as the night closed in around them all.

Reflexively, one hand reached up to thumb the unpolished sphere of amber clasped on the necklace around his neck. Held inside was a seed from the willow throne itself, a counterpart to those held by the other three aspects. If planted in earth, the high court would force its way into the real, a conduit any of the high courtiers could use to travel, spiriting themselves through the wyld and out the other side.

Without warning, Serra's horse started forward. Unthinkingly, Reynard did the same, keeping a handful of steps behind his lord, watching carefully the entire time, though where they were headed, he did not know.

[Derek Smith]

" Weak." Was all the words that escaped the raven's beak as he watched the others of his kind sprint off on their way, their courts following them. He sat upon a oak's branches at the edge of the clearing were the humans had pitched their camp thoroughly enjoying the sport that was laid out before him. Let the others resort to cheap parlour tricks Huginn was the real hunter here, his prey though the thing which drove his hate would be given every chance to escape. For what sport was there in cornering a defenceless animal like man and plunging a short sword into it's body.

No Huginn much preferred the chase and the conquest to the actual killing and enslavement of the sons and daughters of Adam. That was not to say he would not kill tonight, the race of men deserved every sorrow and hardship they received. They had done naught but harm since they were birthed of divine flame and mud. Still he was not of the other two Rulers of the Courts, a different womb bore him into this world and it showed.

Where the others indulged in pointless things such as jewels and courtly life Huginn had withdrawn from the fey. For any duty he owed them was done when the blood of his sister washed over his hands.

But such things were not the reason he stood in the feathers of the raven and it was high time he be about the reason. For he could not withdraw from this night, it was a tradition they had indulged in for unknown years when Huginn had his sister at his side. Ahh now those were true hunts, let the others boast of their hollow victories. Huginn and Munin had never resorted to the lion's share of their powers like the others, contenting themselves with their cunning and minor magics. They won through guile and none of their prey could boast of even knowing it was a fey that took their freedom for a year till after the fact.

And to that end it was time to give chase, but not in the clumsy way of Serra or the foolish way of Irridihwe. Shadows thrived during the day and during the night, so there was no need for such ways. Hitting the ground he discarded his bird's body for a shell more fitting of the cunning hunter.

Gone were the black feathers, replaced by the lanky body of young boy of perhaps a mere thirteen years. A mop of strawberry blonde hair coupled with a narrowly featured face, offset by eyes the deepest shade of green possible. Innocence and terror radiated off him in equal waves, the surest bait for the emotional humans. A wry smile ruined for a moment the image but it was gone as he ran screaming in terror towards the woods joining a small throng of humans who likewise were in terror.

So convincing was this guise of the Shadow Lord none looked twice at the form he assumed. Now was the chase, for these few humans would lead him to others given some time. He wasn't in if for a meaningless victory but for the joy of putting the sons and daughters of Adam in their place.

The Shadow court itself looked with amusement and much shaking of heads at the antics of the hunters from their lofty perch in the sky. Like their father they cared not for the fate of men but did not care enough to go through the troubles their father did. They would not even be here if it were not for the sake of tradition.

[The Darklord]

The lord Illisar's charge forward continued, the dread mount obeying the will of it's master and racing forward with speed that surpassed any mortal animal and many within the fey as well. The Shrieking sound that issued forth from the monster's cavernous maw echoed loudly and resounded through the woods till it seemed to come from all around the terrified and fleeing humans. With the terrible noise never ceasing an inhumanely long tongue slithered around the gaping mouth licking the diseased and putrid lips that slowly drying blood still dripped from, as if in anticipation of the feasting to come when it closed upon the two humans. He had waited so long to feast again and the little taste from the two women in the campsite had not even served to whet his appetite. Oh it would feel so good to have the warmth of food and to be sated after gorging upon the pitiful humans that for reasons even...

The shrieking sound suddenly cut off and the mouth closed so quickly that the long tongue barely had time to reenter. Illisar's head cocked to the side in a quick almost jerky movement. "No" his raspy yet sibilant voice whispered. But denial did not change the facts and Illisar's mouth slid open once more as the plates drew back. Another of the fey was with those he chased already, and that filled the hound of darkness, that ancient creature as old as the high lords with a burning fury. Air was drawn in through the terrible mouth and the smell of the fey mingled with the delicious reek of human fear. A snarl escaped the creatures mouth and a heel viciously kicked at the side of the dread mount. It could not recognize which fey it was but the smell was enough to know it was not human.

"Faster!" it hissed at the steed which bore it upon its back and the mount increased its speed, closing the distance with the humans at a phenomenal speed. The lord Illisar could almost perceive them with what passed for sight. It was merely an annoyance, no fey save the lady darkness or the king forest himself could stand in the hound of darkness way in the hunt, this foolish interference would suffer the fate others had, it would join the humans in a futile attempt to slake the hungry one's endless hunger.

There! It could perceive the humans now and the other who interfered. The hunting spear of ancient human bones vanished and in it's place a terrible bow appeared. Made from bones as well the Hound of Darkness' new weapon seemed to pulse with a muted hunger much like the the lord's own. The lord Illisar reached back and plucked three arrows tipped with an obsidian heads from the quiver that had appeared on his back. Moving with a speed far beyond that of any mortal the hungry one's tongue flicked out and it lifted the arrows to its mouth. The diseased and noxious fluid that dripped from the creature's mouth coated the obsidian arrow heads and once again moving at speeds far beyond those of mortals the Shrieker in the night drew back and loosed three times.

The three arrows each tipped with a blade coated in the fluids from the Lord Illisar's mouth flew towards the humans and the other who ran with them. Toxic was the spittle of the hungry one, a wound from such an arrow would fester and slowly sap the victim of strength though it was a slow process. And the lord Illisar shrieked once more, the dread voice booming forth as once more the spear appeared and took the bows place. The shriek seemed to contain words this time, screamed forth within the terrible sound "fast run. No. Escape. Feasting time. Hungry one. Interfere die."

[wakeangel]

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He feared her, this human male. That was good. It meant he knew what she was, if not who, and recognized fey as superior. The blade in his hands posed a minor risk at best and though she scented hated rowan on him, it was a wood scent, not fruit.

A faint smile curved her wine red lips at his bravado. “I have no wish to see thee to the Great Beyonde, human,” she said in a voice like dark silk as she took an unhurried step towards him, “Trophies hold not mine interest either.” There was something predatory in her gaze that suggested that he, however, might. Without pause, she took another step, moving at an unconcerned pace as she slowly closed the distance between them. “I have come to bestow upon thee a great Gift that may help see thee through to the morrow.”

“Put away thine prick,” she demanded imperiously, glancing in disdain at the small blade in his hands, “and I shall exchange thee a name for a name.” Rarely did she ask for anything, and certainly not from a human. She wanted to know who she Hunted, and he would tell her. It was that simple. Still, she liked for her prey to know who they should fear as well.

“I am Irridihwe, Darkest Dansuer, Chalyce of the Night,” Close enough now that should he extend his arm any further he would cut her, she murmured the last like an intimacy, “Highest Lady of the Unseelie Court...”

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[Irish Wolf]

It was a trio of hounds, which found Aly first. Each was a power Spitz-type dog, thick fur, pointed ears and muzzle, tails curling slightly over their backs. As their glowing blood colored eyes fixed on the young human woman, they let out a chorus of barks, picking up the pace and rushing her. Although the charm of rowan would keep the beasts from touching her, that was not their job. Upon signaling the rest of the pack to her location, they now sought to drive her back towards the camp and where their master was riding. To do this, they circled around her, growling, barking harshly and rushing her, jaws snapping.

The Forest King himself rode at a trot behind his pack, allowing the ghostly dogs to run free, after so many years of languishing in boredom. Where the dogs had ignored the weeping girl that their target had tried to help, the old fey had not. Shifting his lance to his left hand, the wild looking humanoid drew his bronze, leaf-bladed sword as he rode passed the girl. With a leisurely grace, he leaned down from Hlas’s back and swung, neatly severing the girl’s head from her shoulders. The bloody blade flicked in the last gleam of the setting sun, as it smacked the flying head back towards the slumping body.

“One” chortled the Erlking, shaking crimson droplets from the sword, before sheathing the weapon once more. Returning the lance to his dominate hand, he rode on, the eight hooves of his mount ringing, as the song of the hunting hounds grew louder in the forest he had roamed since the beginning of time.

[Kohananinja]

Aly was in a heavily wooded grove when the hounds rushed her, and Aly barely had time to grab a fallen branch off the ground as her only defense. It was hardwood but light, Ash no Rowan maybe? It was too dark too tell, and she was too panicked to really examine the wood. All she cared about was that she could swing it and use it to try to block their snapping jaws. There were three of these monsters, all around her, snapping and barking, but they hadn’t tried to actually bite her yet. There were three of them; she’d be dead now if they were trying to kill her. But they weren’t, Aly realized, they were herding her, like a stupid sheep! Oh course, these monsters were trained!

Suddenly Aly was furious, and it was directed at the only Fey she’d gotten a good look at, the giant, and his beasts. Forests and woods had been her sanctuary all her life; she’d grown up right by one for god’s sake. Whenever she was upset, she’d go to the woods behind her house and sit by her favorite oak tree. It was quiet and tranquil, and peaceful there. It was a place that had been all her own, a rare thing in a little house as over stocked as her’s had been. Aly loved forests, she always had, but now, she was being terrorized in one she’d grown attached to in less than a week of volunteering here, and it pissed her off. How dare these people, she didn’t care how highly they thought of themselves, try to steal the love and sense of security she felt here?!

“Get the hell away from me!” Aly growled in a fit of rage, momentarily forgetting her fear, and swung the branch at one of the hounds intruding muzzle.

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Oh how cute, Adam and Eve Flynn thought sarcastically, more out of defense mechanism than real hostility. The wail was starting to get to him, god only knew why, and sarcasm had always been his first defense to stress. That stress took on a whole other level though when he actually saw the creepy bastard that was making the noise. That thing was the stuff of nightmares, and on that hell steed he was riding, he’d be able to ride them down in no time. There was no time to think, and when Evelynn urged them off the path and towards a steeper part of land, Flynn just acted, following after her at a hurried pace.

“Damn it!” Flynn heard Adam swear from behind him. Flynn turned his head, watching Adam hold his bleeding arm. “I’m alright!” He called ahead and kept running. “It just grazed my arm.” Adam said, though the wound hurt a lot more than he let on. It felt like the wound was literally on fire, but he didn’t see how complaining about it was going to help them. “Are you two alright?” Adam called ahead.

“Peachy.” Flynn bit back, tearing a piece of cloth gauze from his outer shirt. “We gotta get that tied off mate.” Flynn said, looking pointedly at Adam’s arm.

[vasa o souls]

“I have come to bestow upon thee a great Gift that may help see thee through to the morrow.” The Dark lady spoke to him seeming unafraid of him. “Put away thine prick,” The lady said, “and I shall exchange thee a name for a name.” she seemed to want to talk but Fein didn't trust her, and wasn't going to put away his weapon. He noticed that she seemed to be unarmed but based on how quickly these things apeared from nowere he didn't trust her not to have one nearby.

“I am Irridihwe, Darkest Dansuer, Chalyce of the Night,” Close enough now that should he extend his arm any further he would cut her, she murmured the last like an intimacy, “Highest Lady of the Unseelie Court...”

"Stop right there" he said threatening with his weapon. "back up and i'll lower my weapon but i want some answers first, like why are you willing to help me if your one of them?" he was afraid of her for sure, but she seemed to want to help him. He wasn't sure what kind of help she wanted to offer him but anything that might get him throught the night alive was a plus in his mind.

As he spoke he tried to remember everything form the couple of mythology classes and books he had about the unseelie fey and anything about a High lady, anything that might help him out of this situation.

[wakeangel]

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“Because I desire thee for mine own,” the Lady's throaty whisper promised intimacies, her sapphire eyes glittering like stars in the dimness of the forest. She made no move to retreat as he demanded. In fact, her arched eyebrow and the sardonic twist of her lips suggested the amusement one might bestow upon a precocious young one.

“My Gift makes thee more exciting prey, and none who serve me wilt not dare molest thee once thou bearest my Mark.” As she spoke, her voice took on an odd, hypnotic quality- a simple, yet effective mesmerizing trick used to distract and slow the reflexes.

“If thou last the night, riches untold wilt be thine- far beyond the paltry coins of the Forest King. If I best thee, then Hunt rules say thou shalt serve me for one year's time. Even for thine short-lived species, a year is not so long, is it?” Irridihwe queried her Chosen a coquettish smile.

With no warning she moved, a blur of speed as she slapped his knife aside and pinned him up against the tree with a hand at his throat. Slowly, she closed the gap until only a hairs-breadth of space separated her from him, and her ripe lips hovered near his own. “One might only begin to scratch the surface of the amusements to be enjoyed among the Unseelie in that time,” she breathed, her exotic perfume wafting between them as her gaze traveled down from his eyes to latch with intentness on his lips.

With infinite slowness, her eyes drifted closed and, her pouty mouth closed the gap to press upon him a searing Kiss.

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[Harlequin Smile]

"It seems, Lord, that our Lady of sorrows," Reynard paused, smirking as he breathed deep the warm summers air before continuing, "Has found one who appeals to her, uh, sensibilities." The last word was loaded with suggestion, curling from between his lips to stand questioning in the night. There was no reply, and the aspect of spring's head leant to one side as he swung one leg over the saddlehorn, sitting sidelong across his horse, lounging back as if he were in the most comfortable of chairs.

One brow raised as the eyes under it dropped, turning themselves from the figure sitting stiff backed and regal, still staring imperiously into the woods. "Lord. Am I to..." He hesitated, the last word almost whispered. "Interfere."

Serra did not move, still as the wind, eyes fixed unerringly on the point, some two hundred yards hence, in which his sister stood. The taste of her magicks swam through the trees, calling to him, calling to them all, clear as a beacon, though strongest for him, as they ever always had been. That was the curse of immortality. Forever living with the past, with memories both light and dark. He blinked, and for the merest moment his pupils seemed aflame, a single word hissed in reply to the courtiers query.

"Gyse."

Sharp teeth shone as Reynardine threw himself from his horse, landing on all fours and rising, chest puffing out as he took the deepest of breaths. Almost shivering, he threw his head back, voice ringing out like the most strident of bells, one that would carry across the night for miles, addressing that man now tangled in the Lady's clutches.

"Listen, boy, to me, lest this night be your last." The slightest pause, feet spread for balance. " Listen not to our Lady, who has you in her grasp, for she is nothing but the queen of lies." Another breath. "She is the first deceiver. The serpent in the apple tree." Reynardine's grin shone like the cheshire's himself as he ran atop a small hillock, right arm swinging in greeting to an imaginary crowd as he thundered forth his masters will.

"So run, boy. She will take you only if you submit. Refuse her whilst you can, whilst you still have the strength!"

Pirouetting, he sprinted back to the party, leapt up to the saddle and yelled, spurring his horse onwards, eyes bright with the joy of battle. On his honour, whilst the spring court still rode, Irridihwe would not take this, or any of her chosen, this night.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was instinct to twist as the familiar hiss of arrowfire filled Jack's ears, the human skin she was currently walking in reacting far slower than the fairie body it was used to moving in would have. Still, it proved just fast enough. With a thud, the arrow fired at her slammed into a tree inches in front of her face, incongruously making the juddering noise a ruler would when you stick it over the edge of a table and snap it down. If it were a different situation, the arrow less macabre, the creature following them less a threat, Jack would have laughed, loud and high.

Instead she span, eyes wide, as one of the boys cried out. Fists clenching, a tiny daisy at her feet withering as a curse, unable to be bit back, sliced through the air. Illidar was getting too close, the boys were too slow, too clumsy. He would have them if something was not done.

Real panic shot through her voice as she gestured over their shoulders, shouting for them to run, to worry about the pain later and just move. When the dread rider behind them started to shout, unintelligible babbling about hunger and pain, she only hissed in response, snatching up a broken ash limb about four feet long. Illidar wanted the boys,, and only them. If she could slow him down, keep him from them long enough for another of the court to find them, or, ideally, Jack herself to work back to them, then that was all that mattered. Without a second thought, she skidded down the hill, the momentum taking her a few feet past the two as she stood ready and waiting with only her impromptu staff, a single girl facing down a nightmare.

[vasa o souls]

“Because I desire thee for mine own,” the lady said without moving from her spot, Fein noticed that she seemed to be amused by the interactions and the blade that he held. He noticed that she was far from afraid of him even though he held the knife.

“My Gift makes thee more exciting prey, and none who serve me wilt not dare molest thee once thou bearest my Mark.” As she spoke, and time seemed to slow slightly and his world hung on her every word.“If thou last the night, riches untold wilt be thine- far beyond the paltry coins of the Forest King. If I best thee, then Hunt rules say thou shalt serve me for one year's time. Even for thine short-lived species, a year is not so long, is it?” she continued.

The next thing Fein knew he was pinned to a tree and has this lady of shadows a hairs breath from his face, she seemed intent on kissing him and he was inclined to let her so long as she went away after. As she moved to kiss him time seemed to slow considerably more, each breath he took lasted minutes his world still focused on her he could feel her breath against his neck and her supple lips seemed to call to his as they moved closer. Just before that critical moment there was another voice, Fein was unsure where it came from he no longer could focus on his surroundings, his world only involved the night fey's lips, it was a word of warning.

"Listen, boy, to me, lest this night be your last." the voice said as his lips moved closer to hers. " Listen not to our Lady, who has you in her grasp, for she is nothing but the queen of lies." a slight pause, Fein tried to break his mind free to hear was the voice was saying, but only achieved so much as to hear "She is the first deceiver" from the voice, And by then it may as well have been to late.

Life still seeming to be in slow motion Fein didn't have the capacity to comprehend the meaning of the words before his mind was drawn back to the beautiful lady's lush lips, and the thoughts of all she promised him.

As the Night lady kissed him his lips began to tingle and burn. the warm sensation steadily flowing through his body from his lips. Fein wanted the sensation the burning pain to stop but he couldn't form the words. He was trapped as she kissed him, Pinned to the tree for what felt like an eternity. he began to sense just a small bit of her entering his body just as an intense pain began behind his eyes and nose, and a crawling sensation under his skin. Fein caught what looked like slight glimpses of the future, or maybe the past he didn't know and couldn't make out any details.

[Irish Wolf]

The trio ignored Aly’s demand for the dogs to get away, as they continued to circle, jaws snapping and barking like mad beasts. The only thing that was brought about by her outburst was a sharp yelp, from the hound who’s muzzle was struck by the branch, which turned out to be only from an Ash tree. That cry of pain from the dog however, was very effective, as it heralded the arrive of the remaining ten of the hunting pack. Working together, the thirteen breasts slowly backed the girl against a tree.

It was then that the Erlking appeared from the darkening gloom, his massive horse stopping just within the sight of the human. The equine prince shorted, tossing his proud head and stamping the forest loam. For what seemed like an age, the old fey waited there, watching his intended prey try to fend off his ghostly hounds with a simple staff of wood, a friendly smile spread within his long beard.

Finally, the Forest King raised his lance in a salute and whistled to the pack, for them to back off, then he shifted his grip on the weapon. Knowing that he might be rebuffed by the charm she wore, he raised the long spear above his head and threw it, aiming for the center of her chest. It would be much easier if he could just slay the human at a distance. Maybe it wouldn’t be as sporting but at least she would end up serving him and getting released alive, come next midsummer’s eve.

Time seemed to slow down to a crawl, as the lance dragged through the air.

[The Darklord]

The chorus of shrieking and terrible screams of fury resounded through the woods as the dread rider, the shrieker in the night, the hound of darkness, the lord Illisar closed upon his intended prey. The terrible blood stained mouth from which drops of human blood still dripped gaped open and the hunger of the hungry one could be felt almost as if it was a presence itself. With what passed for sight the Lord Illisar saw one of his arrows strike the target and heard the cry of pain from the human. The dread rider tilted back it's massive head and shrieked in triumph as the scent of blood unique to each human filled the air. The human could never escape him now, he had the blood scent and none had ever escaped him once the hungry one possessed the blood.

The failure of it's other arrows bothered it not at all though inwardly the Lord Illisar cursed the other fey for interfering. Did the foolish clearly a shapeshifter not understand that interfering with the hound of darkness was akin to asking for death? The hungry one knew not but it's terrible mouth twisted into something that faintly resembled a smile, if one could call an expression that more befit a demon from the depths of hell than a human a smile. "Blood tasting, Scent, eternal feast, hungry one comes." The insane sounding babble echoed forth as the other words had before within the terrible shrieks that split the night asunder.

Mouth plates clicked and whirred as they slid slightly closed before opening wide again as the Lord Illisar perceived a change in the flight of its prey. The one who bore the scent of fey had turned perhaps to attempt to fight him. The shrieking cut off as the Lord Illisar closed his mouth fully and plates clicked and whirred as they shut once more around the hungry one's terrible maw closing off his entire face within the great spiked helm. But before the plates had shut a last scent had been gotten, one that the hungry one knew, it could tell what fey opposed it now, it reeked of the day court and the court of daylight possessed only a single shapeshifter. As satisfying as it would be to open his mouth once more and shriek out the name of the one who opposed it the lord Illisar did not, instead keeping silent for the moment as the dread mount bounded up the hill with little difficulty, despite the steepness.

Oh how he would enjoy this, he would slay the aspect of autumn, and feast upon two boys. Such delicious flesh, perhaps it would take the time to actually consume these two before continuing the hunt, it would take only moments, the hungry one ate fast. With the distance between the lord Illisar and the shapeshifter who stood between it and it's prey the dread rider raised its hand that did not clutch the spear of bones and the made a gesture. While magic was not the hungry one's greatest skill it did possess it and the lord Illisar, unique and twisted as he was did some strange things with what magic he possessed.

A feeling of cold, and hopelessness seemed to pulse forth from the rider and as he drew nearer the feeling would intensify greatly, a constant urge to lay down and surrender to the inevitable, insatiable hunger that gave chase. The shrieker in the night barreled down upon the shapeshifter, spear of ancient human bones firmly clasped and aimed to strike the girl dead on. The terrible mouth slid open once more and another shriek, this time far louder and more terror instilling than any of the others before it burst forth as the Lord Illisar charged.

[Kohananinja]

This wasn’t working Aly thought desperately, as the hounds backed her unwillingly towards a tree. It was all she could do to avoid and try to knock away their snapping jaws, but what else could she do? She had no other means of defense and it was frustrating. How was she supposed to fight something she had no way to kill? And then suddenly, the world was filled with the sound of a long and commanding whistle that called the dogs away. She watched them retreat back; following with her eyes to their master, and held her breath. It was the giant, the Green man, who’d spoken before and who’s likeness she wore around her neck.

Aly had spent some time around horses before, and had a healthy admiration for the beautiful animals, but she had never seen a horse that was both as magnificent and terrifying as the one the Green man road now. And angry as she was, she couldn’t help but subconsciously admit she’d never quite seen a man as magnificent as it’s rider either, though the sheer size of him was also merely the first on many obvious indicators that this thing, while most definably male, was no man. Unwillingly a blush crept up her cheeks, as Aly’s thoughts rushed back to the ridiculous story Flynn had spun at the campfire earlier, before the brief illusion was shattered by the lance. Had she not been ogling, she might not have caught the subtle flex of muscle in time that told her exactly what he was doing with his shiny lethal projectile, but she had been, and Aly threw herself to the ground, barely missing the weapon that had very nearly impaled her. It was a quick and harsh reminder of what she was dealing with here. These weren’t the fairies from storybooks, or novels, or even Flynn and Adam’s old wives tale stories about a magic race that picked a lass they fancied to spirit off. These things were killers, and yes, they were things to her now, it was safest to think of them that way.

Aly looked up at the Green man from the ground, fire in her eyes as she stared it down. The ass hadn’t even bothered to dismount when he’d tried to kill her. In fact, it looked down right leisurely, like the expression one of her brother’s might have when just tossing a football around with the guys, and it infuriated her. It was insulting to a core level that it could attempt to end her life in such a nonchalant way, and she glared daggers at it.

“If you’re going to try and kill me, at least have the decency to get off your ass when you do it!” Aly shouted angrily.



“Don’t be stupid!” Flynn growled as they ran, and Eve stopped to try and fight the monster. She was either brave or stupid, probably both, and he was practically having to drag Adam along, who was making very verbal protests to leaving their brief companion behind. It wasn’t his fault she wasn’t smart enough to run, or apparently had a hero complex, and he certainly wasn’t about to die because of it.

“We can’t just leaving her!” Adam shouted, trying to jerk free from Flynn’s grasp. Another bought of that horrible wail overshadowed anything either boy had to say for the moment, but Adam handled it the best. “You wouldn’t leaving me back there, we can’t leave her.”

“That is not the same.” Flynn practically snarled, a cold ball of fear lodging itself in his gut trying to coax him into rolling into a ball, then and there. It took an extraordinary amount of will power to fight this sudden and frightening urge.

“Yes it is!” Adam argued back, and Flynn cursed him mentally for a bloody smitten fool, but relented when a certain tree caught his sight.

“You bloody well better be right about this Rowan wood Adam, or so help me God I’ll kill you myself!” Flynn said a few moments later as he and Adam ran back towards Eve and the monster, armed with branches of the Rowan tree they’d crossed paths with; some even having some fruits still on them.

[Harlequin Smile]

The beast barely slowed as it powered through the trees towards Jack, one arm extending outwards, its gnarled hand gesturing towards her, fingers curling. Jack's eyes widened as the creature closed, grip loosening on her weapon, the branch looking completely pathetic compared to the spear levelled at her by the horsebound monster. Her shoulders slumped. From any other perspective, this was insanity. How could someone so tiny, so weak looking, face down a creature as horrifying as Illisar? Looking utterly defeated, the skinwalking fae simply stood still as the fell rider charged, waiting for death.

Or at least, that was what she wanted it to think. At the last second, the spear a moment from punching through her chest, she twisted, throwing herself out of the path of the horse, her left arm snapping out to send the staff held in her hand soaring through the air into the front legs of the galloping horse. The outcome was obvious. There was no way a creature moving at that speed could keep its footing with a sturdy ash branch between its legs.

Contempt twisted her features as she landed rolling, mouth spasming as her shoulder cried out in agony. Pressing her hand to it, she cursed again as her palm came away crimson. Dodging that spear should have been the work of a child, and this pathetic mortals body had failed again. Jack hauled herself to her feet, eyes blazing. It didnt matter, far too late to change anything now. Even so, the sheer arrogance of the creature. To think that a simple spell of fear would have affected her. The aspect of autumn and steward of the Most High, one who had lived for centuries in a court where to show the slightest emotion at the wrong time was a death sentence, who, like her contemporaries, had mastered the true speech. The terror had washed over her like a chill breeze, and had been dismissed just as easily, a passing distraction, barely even a concern.

Her gaze passed from the creature, squinting in disbelief as the two young men came running back towards them, clutching their own weapons. Did they not understand she was trying to let them escape? Limping slightly, trying to overemphasise how wounded she was, Jack shouted to Illisar.

"You failed, creature. I still live. You want me, come and finish me!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The night air throbbed, charged with potential, thickening around the remainder of the high court, thundering through the forest. At the lead, Renardine shook his head, a wry grin on his lips as he sighed.

"Pathetic. The willpower these humans show worsens every time they are tested. Still, to be proved wrong so soon into the hunt." Rearing back in the saddle, a hand raised to his brow, eyes closing in mock pain. "My heart bleeds, Lord."

One of the spring nobles following tittered dutifully and Reynard glancing sideways at Serra, looking for any reaction. There was none. The broad smile on his face faltered the merest fraction as the party slowed, cantering towards a copse of trees dominated by a tall maple. Stopping, he swung from the saddle, resting a hand on the neck of Serra's own and bowing his head as the high lord dismounted. Without a word, Serra started into the trees, holding up a hand as Reynardine made to follow, leaving the aspect of spring and the rest of the party staring after him.

It was only a moment later that he stood in the clearing with Irridihwe, a thin smile on his face as he watched the human submit utterly to the charms of his sister. If the fae understood the concept of pity, Serra would have felt it for this one. Little did the boy know what he had agreed to, what his life, for want of a better term, would consist of now that he was in the clutches of the mistress of night. He took a step closer, the shadows shrinking away at his approach, eyes only for Irridihwe.

"You know as well as I, Lady, that this will not work."

The smile never left his lips, voice feather soft yet dominating in its finality. He cared little for interrupting the moment, and it mattered not anyway. The die had been cast, the human had already given himself wholely. His part was over. Radiating serenity, Serra simply stood, waiting for a response.

[Irish Wolf]

The Erlking laughed, a rich, hearty booming sounds of merriment, which carried through the trees, echoing over the miles of forest. It had been a long time, not counting the years of sleeping, since he had enjoyed a hunt. Not since the oldest heroes of the man-creatures, had one dared to stand up to him (or indeed any of the Great Lords), unless cornered and even then, it was a courage born of fear. This human seemed more angry at him, then scared. It was refreshing and made him look forwards to a year of having her at his side, not that he’d make her do much. He never really made any of his kills do much.

Patting Hlas on the neck, the Forest King slide off the back of the prince of horses and stood by his side, studying the girl. His friendly smile broadened into one of great enjoyment, as he made a short bow to the human, before drawing the bronze blade at his hip. The moonlight, which managed to filter in through the leafy canopy of the old forest, glinted on the blade, which had already tasted blood this midsummer’s eve. A bright flash ran down the razor’s edge, from the tip to the hilt.

“Come” boomed the Fey, “Stand. It be a wonderful night for dancing. Don’t ye agree?”

Waiting until the man-creature had regained both her feet and the staff of ash, the Erlking lifted his sword in salute and came at her. A soft, wordless song, like the babbling of a brook over stones, came from within the deep chest of the ageless ruler of the trees, as he swung the blade in a flash of light, seeking to deprive her shoulders, of her head.

[wakeangel]

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The first deceiver?! Irridihwe flashed hot with rage, the hand sliding up her Chosen's arm in a possessive caress unconsciously clenched his bicep in a cruel grip, dalliances of the moment nearly forgotten even as they continued. What lies hath Serra spawned? His lies had come long before any of hers when he supplanted the sister he'd promised to cherish through eternity for that sallow-faced cow!

Coppery blood coating her tongue brought her back to the moment as her kiss turned as cruel as her embrace. She felt the soft rush of power from her into him in exchange and realized that she'd unintentionally given him more than she'd meant to, more than was safe. If he survived the next few minutes, he would be the most powerful Chosen she had ever created.

She knew the moment the riders entered her hearing that the Seelie Lord was coming. She had always known such things, just as had he. Bits and pieces of her history floated past her awareness on the magicks flowing lazily into her prey. She wouldn't give Serra the satisfaction of jumping like a guilty tryster, in fact lingered overlong, though she closed off the connection flowing between them, her manner gentle and caressing once more. Her human was tense with pain, his eyes open and staring as she slanted her mouth across his one final time and released him, intrigued by the possibilities such a magically imbued prey might present.

“What won't work?” She asked the question with casual unconcern as she turned, licking blood from her lips as she went, pink swiping at crimson over rich burgundy wine. Inside her mind roiled. Did he know her plans? Was that why he interfered now after ignoring her diversions, no matter how outrageous, for so very very long?

The Dark Lady took a few steps towards him, keeping his party in sight, especially the tricky Reynard. Oh how she hated and envied him and his brethren, though her awareness of him, and of the Chosen at her back was peripheral at best. Serra's gaze stole hers, demanded her attention- and she gave it. The pool of leaf-dappled shadows around her refused to yield to his power, cloaked her as she baited, “Hast thou nothing to better amuse thyself with on such a night than harassing thine sister?” The last word dripped with distaste. “Dost thou not have a Trophy to fail to win?”

❧.¸¸.•°´'`°•.(¯´'•.¸(¯´'•.¸(❦)¸.•'´¯)¸.•'´¯).•°´'`°•.¸¸.❧